


"Quand le ciel nous tombe sur la tête"

by soft_princess



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Community: summer_of_giles, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Episode: s05e22 Not Fade Away, Post-Episode: s07e22 Chosen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-28
Updated: 2008-07-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_princess/pseuds/soft_princess
Summary: It's the end of the world as they know it; they have nothing left to do but try to save it with their last breath.
Relationships: Rupert Giles/Xander Harris
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Written for summer_of_giles. 
> 
> Note 2: The title can be translated, literally, into "when the sky falls on our head." French speakers amongst you who have read the adventures of Astérix et Obélix will recognize the reference.
> 
> Thanks to Mireille for the beta.

_G,_

_It's weird, the letter writing, I mean. Not that everything isn't weird, cause it is, it fucking is. (Sorry, bad word. Don't care, the situation deserves it, don't you think?) But anyway, letter. Writing. Me. To you._

_Weird._

_There really isn't any other way to, you know, talk to you, so I guess... Willow said there's a spell she can do that won't register on their radar, and the letter's gonna go straight to you--I'm gonna include the spell she's writing down so you can do the same. You should be able to find pen and paper, right? I hope so._

_Buffy's worried. And Dawn and Willow. And everyone else._

_Me too._

_But I guess that's not that hard to figure out since I'm writing. Not something I'd do for just about anyone, big guy. I hope you know how lucky you are._

_We're okay out here. I guess you'd want to know that. We're all getting restless, not doing anything when we know what's going on out there. We want to fight, you know, that's what we do. No worries though, we're not going to do anything stupid like try to get out of here; the end of days, not our cup of tea, we prefer the world saving gig, not damage control. And we've seen enough people dying anyway._

_Would you believe I miss Andrew of all people? Fuck, we could use him right now. He'd provide some good distraction; he always does--did. This is just..._

_Let us know you're okay. Don't think we could deal with, you know. Just send us a sign or something. We're waiting._

_X._

Giles pocketed the letter inside his battered, dirty jacket, sighing. He'd have to figure some way to send a missive back, if only to let them know he had made it to Los Angeles unscathed.

There hadn't been a mile on his journey where he hadn't wished he was safely back on the island. He missed them too. A few blocks away, he found a discarded notepad, its pages almost all burnt or missing. There was a drawing left, one that looked like it could have been drawn by a child. 

Giles pulled the page out and turned it over. Mostly untouched. It would do. Finding a pen proved to be harder, but as he made his way through the streets of the city, he kept on the lookout for one, and it was his luck that he found one as he was hiding behind an old, decrepit building.

He didn't have much time to write; demons were patrolling the streets, waiting for prey--whether human or not, it didn't seem to matter--and Giles had to keep moving.

After he followed Willow's instructions and watched as the folded piece of paper vanished, Giles took a look out into the street and pulled back quickly. A trio of Loplekc--three meters tall, one across, with a thick, steel-like carapace; he'd come across them once before, and he'd never forget--went past him, not even throwing a glance his way. It was a relief to know his shields were holding.

He hadn't seen a human being in seven days.

He hadn't seen the sun for an even longer time, not since he'd left the island over two weeks prior. This city was the darkest by far, and smelled strongly of smoke; that wasn't uncommon either. Half of the buildings he passed by were in ruins by now, the fires left to spread without anyone to put them out. Giles couldn't linger on the reason why there weren't any people left in the city to fight or put things to right; he had more important things to do.

He had very little hopes of finding any of the L.A. crew alive--early reports, before all communications had been cut, had mentioned that Wesley was definitely dead, but everyone else still standing; but that had been a month ago--but Giles slowly made his way towards the second to last address he'd had for them. The Wolfram & Hart building was in ruins, and was the center of this carnage, so there was no way anyone would be hiding in the rubbles, whereas the Hyperion...

Fallen buildings and trees, wrecked cars and an innumerable amount of bodies were making it difficult to follow the map Giles had been able to acquire from a relatively untouched--though pillaged--store. He'd also managed to find some food, a first in three days, if you could call a stale bag of crisps, a crushed chocolate bar, and a warm bottle of pop _food_ , but that had been enough to give him back some of his strength, enough to make it here, at least.

Giles peeked again from behind the building and sighed in relief when he saw that the Loplekc had left and that the hotel was still standing. It loomed, dark and menacing, on the next street corner, and Giles didn't lose a moment and ran across the street and onto the lot where the Hyperion stood. There was no telling when the next group of demons would come around, and while the protections he'd put on himself made it impossible for the demons and assorted evil to track him or notice his presence with magic or supernatural senses, they could still _see_ him.

He could feel it the moment he penetrated the wards surrounding the hotel. They were invisible to the outsider, but the magic was thick and strong about halfway between the street and the front door. Someone, at least, was still alive; whether they were anyone he knew of, or a group of survivors, was yet to be determined.

"Hold up! Stay where you are."

The voice was unmistakable, and for the first time in many years, Giles was relieved to hear him. "Angel, thank God," he murmured, his own voice hoarser than he'd remembered. How long had it been since he'd talked out loud? Muttering had been a way to fill the silence, but talking... not since Nevada. The memory twisted his heart, and Giles focused instead on the small group of people approaching, weary-eyed and obviously wary of him.

"Giles?" Angel was the first to reach him, and he patted Giles' shoulder awkwardly as if to make sure he really was there. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Giles didn't dignify that with an answer. He walked further into the lobby and collapsed on one of the benches. "Your friends?" he grunted, nodding at the four people who were all looking at him with wide eyes. Correction, three people and a--well, he wasn't sure exactly what she was, but the blue skin and the tilted head seemed to point towards "not human."

"Illyria," Angel said, nodding at the woman looking thing. "Connor," he continued, putting a hand on a young man's arm. Next came a tall man, possibly in his early thirties, "Darren, and Lisa." The last was a woman in her mid-forties, hair cut short and her arms crossed. "We picked up those two a few weeks ago."

"Charles? Fred?" Giles asked, remembering the names from Andrew's report.

Angel nodded to Illyria. "She took over Fred's body; Gunn's downstairs." There was a pause, and Giles wished he knew how to read Angel's face as well as Buffy could. "He got turned."

Giles let out a tired sigh and rubbed his forehead. More loss; would it ever end? That was why he was here, wasn't it? To make it end. He only hoped he hadn't embarked on a fool's errand.

"Wesley's downstairs too." Angel's expression was as unreadable as it had been a moment ago.

"Wesley? I heard he was dead," Giles said. He cringed at how cold he sounded.

"I was."

Giles turned and there Wesley was, looking haggard and pale. When he moved forward, Giles immediately noticed that Wesley wasn't walking; he was _gliding_ across the floor, his feet a good three inches above it. The hand that seemed to squeeze Giles' shoulder was in fact, nothing more than a cool breeze on his neck. Giles shivered.

The story was quite anticlimactic. In a last ditch attempt to sway the balance over to the good side, the Powers had allowed Wesley to return to help, but his body had already gone up in flames by the time they'd made their decision, and evil's grasp on the Earth had been so strong that all the Powers had been able to do was to bring back his essence. "A ghost then?" Giles asked, although not looking for an answer. He could very well put two and two together on his own. 

Wesley gave a nod and crossed his arms. Everyone was looking at Giles expectantly.

"There's a spell," he said finally after rubbing his forehead and taking a deep breath. "I need soil from the exact site where the first portal opened."

"You need our help," Wesley replied.

"Quite." There was a moment of silence, then a distinct, loud crash coming from downstairs.

Angel nodded to Darren, and he took off down the stairs with Lisa in tow. "What do you need from us?" Angel asked, looming in the corner with his arms crossed on his chest.

"Your wards. How strong are they?"

"Strong enough," Wesley said. His face was blank, almost lifeless. No, not almost, it was lifeless, eerie. Giles yearned for the not-quite competent bumbling fool of years ago.

"Did you put the wards up yourself?"

Wesley's nod was barely noticeable, but it was Angel who answered, "The Powers That Be at least gave him something to help."

"Small mercies." Giles stood up, ignoring the throbbing in his head, and stretched his back. When he looked at Wesley, the ghost had turned his back on them and was floating in the direction of his office. Puzzled, Giles followed him, leaving Angel and Connor in the lobby. "Have you got anything that might help?"

"I know which spell you're thinking of," Wesley gave as an answer. "I suppose you have all the common items?" 

"We're missing the eyes of newt, but Willow was preparing a specific transportation spell to acquire them before I left." That was the last usually easy-to-find ingredient they were missing. Hopefully, her spell had worked.

"I see. I suspect they're not readily available these days." Wesley turned and pointed at a bookshelf. A book came out on its own, and Wesley lowered it onto the desk. "It's the original," he explained to Giles while the pages flew open. They finally settled on the right spell, and Giles bent down to read. What they'd found in the books they had managed to save from the Council's second collapse in less than a year had been a review of the most powerful magic, not the original copy of the spell book. It was written in a very ancient form of Sumerian, and Giles wished he had Dawn with him.

Shaking the pang of longing, he looked up. "Can you translate it?"

Wesley nodded. "We're lacking a very important key element here," he explained. "Otherwise, I'd have attempted it myself."

"As far as I'm aware, there's only one place left on this Earth where the sun still shines."

"Where?" Wesley rolled his desk chair in Giles' direction, and Giles sat down gladly.

He told him about the island. It was in the middle of the Indian Ocean, an uninhabited piece of land that had been just the right size to send the rest of the slayers, Dawn, Willow, Buffy and Xander when the end had been in sight. Willow had enough strength left in her after everyone's transport that she'd been able to build up wards to fend off the darkness and to keep evil away. "Xander has warned me that the darkness is starting to grow on the horizon. I'm not sure how long Willow can hold on to the wards before she collapses from exhaustion."

Wesley stood silently until Angel walked in; with a nod, he told Giles, "The first demon to come through the rift, as far as we're aware, was a dragon."

"Spike finished it off before he got burned," Angel added.

"Twice burned," Giles murmured, not even rising as eyebrow at the mention of Spike. It hadn't been in Andrew's report after his visit to L.A., but the boy hadn't been able to keep it in at Christmas time. Distracting himself from thoughts of the dead, Giles looked up at Angel. "Can you lead me to where it is?"

"Time's running out," Wesley interjected. "We can't count on your wards holding out the darkness much longer; I think we should split."

Giles sighed; he was tired to his bones, feeling it in every part of his body. "You're right." He'd been walking for eighteen days; the aura of evil surrounding the epicentre of the apocalypse had made it impossible for Willow to transport him right where he needed to be, and the closest safe place to do it had been Nevada. He'd managed to hijack a car on his first day, but it had broken down at the halfway point between there and here, and Giles had been unwilling to risk being noticed afterwards.

Wesley seemed to pick up on Giles' exhaustion; he turned to Angel, taking charge. "I suggest you take Darren with you and go out to get the pieces of the dragon we need; I'll lead Giles to where he needs to go."

"Take Connor with you," Angel said, his tone brooking no argument. "If you run into trouble, you won't be any good in a fight, and Giles won't either."

Giles was about to argue, he could still hold himself in a fight, he thought, and there was no need to endanger Connor, but Wesley nodded. "Agreed. We'll leave Lisa here to keep an eye on Charles."

Wesley went out, leaving Giles alone with Angel. Giles rubbed his forehead again; the pain had been constant for days now. At least he wasn't actually injured, just exhausted.

"Maybe we should wait a couple of hours," Angel said. "You need food and some rest."

Giles shook his head. "I've barely slept in three weeks; I doubt a couple of hours would make a difference." He'd fallen from exhaustion on the tenth day and hidden in the backroom of a deserted coffee shop. He had slept for more than twelve hours, miraculously surviving the night. Stale pastries and foul coffee had been the best meal he'd had on the whole trip.

"At least get some food; we've got plenty in the kitchen. Darren used to work at a grocery store, and he got a cartful out of there before it was run over."

"All right." He didn't move from his chair, couldn't make his legs work now that he was sitting down. It had been so long. "Are you sure it's wise to send a child with us?"

"Child?" Angel leaned back against the wall, eyes studying Giles carefully. "Connor's about as strong as a Slayer."

"I doubt it; it's--"

"Not impossible," Angel interrupted, "considering who his parents are."

Giles lifted his eyebrow, expecting an explanation, but Angel turned around and left. Questions could wait, after all. If this worked, Giles would have plenty of time to find answers, and if it didn't--

Well, it wouldn't matter, now would it?

He turned the book around and started to read, stretching his knowledge of Sumerian as far as they could go. He'd thought he'd need blood from the first otherworldly creature to pass though, but it seemed that he'd need a tooth or a claw, specifically. That wouldn't be too difficult to pull off a dead dragon, unless it was well guarded.

A piece of paper appeared on the book. It was hastily folded, and he thought he could recognize Xander's scrawl as he opened it and read.

_G,_

_Thanks for not dying. Can't say how relieved the girls were hearing that._

_Also glad to know you made it to L.A. We were starting to think you'd miss the deadline. We can see the darkness coming. It's still pretty far, but we have no idea how many days we have left until the sun's gone here like it is everywhere else._

_Dawn and some of the girls are working on their tans, you know, just in case. It's not like we got anything else to do out here, and swimming's out. There are some fierce sharks out there. We saw two fighting less than ten feet from the shore yesterday. And that's not counting the one that we had for dinner a week ago--it washed up on the shore during the night; never thought I'd be glad to eat shark, but there's a first time to everything, right?_

_Willow says she's got everything we need to do this, except for the few ingredients you've got to bring back with you. Her spell worked, by the way. She managed to conjure up some eyes of newt--you should have seen Carly's face when she got sprayed with newt juice all over. Girl was helping Willow, and all she got out of it was an order to shower (took her four tries) to get the smell out._

_Anyway, I, well... Thanks for the news. Tell Angel, if he's still standing, Buffy says to kick some demon butt for her. Everyone chimed in for that one, so make that eleven demon butts to kick. (Times two, Dawn says, if he can)_

_Just, you know, keep on not dying._

_X._

Giles' smile lasted a few more moments before he sighed. It wouldn't do to dwell on what he couldn't have. He looked up and caught sight of a pen and a pad of paper. Now was as good a time as any to answer.

He'd barely recited the incantation that Angel was back. He put a tray filled with food--a sandwich with dubious meat, crisps, some less than fresh vegetables, and a glass of what turned out to be orange juice--on the desk and said, "Eat. Wesley's getting everyone else up to speed."

Giles nodded, too exhausted and hungry to argue. It was the most food he'd seen since they'd had to run away from London. Certainly, they'd found sustenance on the island, more than enough for all of them, but Giles hadn't stayed there long enough to share a meal. As soon as he'd known the others would be safe, he'd left.

He ate barely half his plate, his stomach tying itself into knots far too soon. Starvation was never good on anyone's appetite, he supposed. He joined the others in the lobby afterward, and was handed a cup of warm, strong coffee.

"Adrenaline in liquid form," the boy, Connor, said. For the first time since they'd met, Giles took a good look at him and frowned. Some of his traits were familiar, and it was only when he looked up at Angel, who was talking about their plan, that he realized who the boy reminded him of. There was no time now for questions, however, but he couldn't deny that he was curious--Angel, a vampire, couldn't have a son, not unless the boy was also a vampire several hundred years old, and he looked and felt completely human to Giles.

"What we're after," he said when Angel and the others turned to him, "is a tooth or a claw from the dragon Spike slew. I would suspect a tooth would be best in this case, as it's least likely to have caught fire, and we need it to still have some essence of the beast left in it."

"That shouldn't be a problem." Angel looked at Darren, and the man nodded, saying "Sure thing. One dragon tooth coming right up."

Something in Angel's expression unsettled Giles, but he quenched the fear; he couldn't afford to doubt any of them, and as much as Angel's face right then reminded him of Angelus' determined, cold stare, perhaps that was the part of the vampire they needed right now.

"Connor--" Angel started.

"I'm going with them," Connor interrupted. "I know. I'm gonna be fine."

* * *

They set out less than an hour later. Wesley had wanted to wait until the area was as quiet as it ever got these days, and watching the procession of demons--in-fighting seemed to be a trend--Giles couldn't argue against the logic.

Giles explained the spell he was using to protect himself from detection, hoping Wesley would be able to come up with something to protect Connor as well, but the boy only smirked and shook his head. When they walked out, Giles watched him disappear into the shadows, completely invisible. Wesley shrugged and started to walk. Angel and Darren had left through the sewers, deciding it was the best way to get to the dragon; with the demons now ruling over ground, not many had chosen to stay hidden, and it would be safer for them.

Giles hated sewers, and apparently, so did Wesley.

They kept hidden behind buildings, in alleys. It took them quite a bit of time to get to their target--Giles had lost all sense of time since he'd lost his watch ten days ago, without a sun to guide him--Giles thought maybe an hour had passed, but they finally arrived in an area of town where most buildings were fallen, barely anything left to stand.

The desolation had been becoming harsher as they'd walked, less buildings up, more fires, more demons to avoid, and Giles was starting to wonder how he'd make it to the Wolfram & Hart building in the open, and make it out unscathed.

"Here, let's rest," Wesley whispered, motioning for Connor to meet them. The boy reappeared from behind a pillar; Giles hadn't seen him at all since they'd left. His stalkery skills were impressive.

"These bastards," Connor muttered when he got nearer. He gave a nod at the group of twenty or so mixed demon races--Giles could recognize a few Fyarls, but that was it--all prostrated in front of what looked like a throne. He didn't want to know what it was for.

"They'll name a new god, I'd bet," Wesley whispered back, grimly answering the question Giles wasn't asking.

"How do we make it across?" Giles asked. He could see part of the building they were after right behind the throne--the Wolfram & Hart sign, which had probably been hung on the top of the building, was very visible--and there was no way they wouldn't be noticed if they went that way.

"They moved that piece," Wesley replied. "The building's actually more to the left." He pointed at a mountain of rubble, clearly that of a more expensive and high tech building, and Giles nodded. It was seemingly unguarded, all of the demons' attention on the throne and whatever was to sit on it, but they knew better than to assume no one was watching it; especially since it was, most possibly, sacred ground to them now.

"The question stands," he said, leaning against the brick wall and looking at Connor, who was starting guard within earshot of them. "We'll need to find a way to make it to the rubble, and I'll need to dig until I can touch the soil--" Seeing Wesley shake his head with a resolute look on his face, Giles stopped and waiting for an explanation.

"The consecrated ground," Wesley said, "will be free of rubble. It'll be at the dead center of the old building and no digging will be needed."

Connor was nodding along, and looked up at the scrap of building they were hiding behind. "I can climb up there and make sure of that. Won't take a second."

Giles was about to ask the boy to stay put, but Connor had already leapt up high. Unnaturally high. Giles looked back at Wesley, but the ghost seemed deep in thought. "Don't worry," Wesley said distractedly. "Connor knows what he's doing."

"What is he?" Giles tried for a uninterested tone, but from the way Wesley looked back at him with brows furrowed, that hadn't worked.

"He's Angel's son."

Giles blinked, questions burning on the tip of his tongue. He'd seen the resemblance, of course, but that was impossible. "How--" he started to ask, but Wesley made a shushing gesture. Just as he closed his mouth, three Loplekc passed by. They were walking the perimeter. "So much for unguarded," Giles muttered once they were out of earshot.

"Yes, it seems they have more than one trio circling the grounds, although I can't see whether any more demons are coming through the rift or not."

"Nah." Connor's voice reached them before the boy was even on the ground yet. He'd jumped from the building and landed silently on his feet, one hand on the ground to keep his balance. "Nothing's coming through, but there are guards everywhere. We'll need a distraction."

"I'll go," Wesley said, before the boy could volunteer himself.

"But--"

"No, Connor. You'll take Giles to the rift and protect him while he does what he has to do. I'll distract the demons."

"They'll send you--"

"Nothing says they'll figure out what I am before the two of you are done. And besides, the Powers have brought me back once; they'll do it again if they have to."

Connor was about to argue again, and Giles couldn't fault him for trying. He knew very well though that telling Wesley that once he was banished by a demon warlock, he wouldn't be brought back would be a waste of time. Wesley knew it better than they did. Giles put his hand on Connor's forearm and shook his head; the boy subsided with a glare in Wesley's direction.

"Now," Wesley said. He took off in the direction opposite to where Giles was to go. At first, he seemed to be flying across the street, but as soon as he came to the other side of the crowd, where Giles could barely see, Wesley's feet started to move as if he was running. Soon enough, the demons had taken interest into the human running from them, and whatever ceremony they'd been attending seemed forgotten as they gave chase to Wesley, the Lopleck guards in tow.

"Come on," Connor said, tugging Giles along with him at a hurried pace. "We don't have a lot of time."

Giles ran behind the boy, knowing better than to try to see what fate awaited Wesley. He was on his own, now, and Giles would know sooner or later anyway. It took them a little more time than Giles would have liked to reach the fallen building. Rocks and fires, and a few stray demons who hadn't been at the "consecration" or who had chosen to stay behind were making it hard to walk at a steady pace unnoticed.

They could finally see behind one of the outer walls; two demons stood, face forward, guarding a doorway that led into a shimmering blue light that looked like fire. Giles shivered and crouched down next to a rock, pulling Connor down with him. "We'll have to distract the guards."

"So that's the portal?"

"To hell, yes," Giles answered tiredly. So very close to the goal, and it still looked like an impossible task. The demons would likely alert others as soon as they saw them, and then all could be lost. He only had a teenage boy as a fighting companion.

Connor nodded and his eyes darted around the scenery, taking everything in quickly. "I'll lure them out that way," he said, pointing at another piece of a building, smaller this time, but if Connor lured them behind the last standing wall, they wouldn't see the portal door anymore, and Giles would be free to slip out and grab what he needed.

The boy would probably not survive it. Of course, he was _Angel's son_ and there was no telling what strength he might have from this lineage, but...

Giles closed his eyes against the reality of it; yet another child he would most possibly be sending to his death--this was starting to be a bit much too bear. He could only hope that it wouldn't be all for nothing. He opened his eyes to find Connor staring at him with a strange expression on his face.

"I'll be fine," Connor said, obviously trying to be reassuring; Giles didn't know if he _could_ be reassured at all. "Just get what you need and meet me back here when you're done." 

Giles gave a quick nod, not trusting himself to speak. Connor was confident, but Giles couldn't help watching him go with a feeling of dread. He'd never hated being a Watcher as much as he had the past few weeks and now. Sending all those Slayers, children the lot of them, to their deaths one after the other as they'd tried to contain the threat, and now this. Wesley gone, and now Connor--

Giles gave a thought to calling Connor back and exchanging their roles, but when he looked up, the boy had just whistled to gain the demons' attention, and they were stalking towards him, leaving the doorway free. Giles waited ten more seconds, just long enough to marvel at Connor's fighting technique, and then ran to the cleared patch of earth. No broken debris there, it had been wiped by all the demons walking and flying through--nobody was coming now.

Giles grabbed the plastic bag he'd stuff in his coat pocket just before they'd left London for the last time, and shook it open, cringing when the sound echoed loudly against the broken walls. He could hear the scuffling of a fight behind him, but didn't turn to look. Focusing on the task was all he could do, and distraction wouldn't help. He grabbed a handful of dirt and watched it tumbling down from his fingers. He couldn't feel anything different about it. Perhaps he wasn't close enough to the portal.

He looked up. He was approximately twenty feet away. He loathed to get closer, the sight of it enough to fill him with dread. Giles breathed deeply and let the sounds of Connor fighting the demons fade as he walked. Ten feet away now and he could feel it before he even touched the soil with his bare hand. This was what he needed. It was imbued with the magic of the portal.

Giles filled the bag as much as he could and sealed it. It was heavy in his pocket, but he felt relieved as soon as it was safe. Now, perhaps things would go--

"Giles! Watch out!"

Giles rolled on his side and onto his feet, and grabbed the sword he'd strapped to his back before leaving the Hyperion. Before he could react, the demon swung his arm and hit Giles square in the face. He reeled back from the blow, barely registering the pain, and steadied himself and his sword.

He ducked to the left, avoiding another arm swing, and struck out, his sword barely reaching the demon's armoured chest. Giles sidestepped to his right to avoid another blow and raised his sword, intent on at least hitting the thing's arm if he couldn't do any more damage, when it suddenly fell forward, and Giles had to throw himself to the side to avoid it.

He brushed sand off his face and his hand came away wet with blood. "Wonderful, just wonderful," he muttered. He looked up at the sound of a boot kicking the Loplekc's chest and he found Connor there, a wild look in his eyes. He looked very much like a hunter then, and for a moment, Giles couldn't doubt that Wesley had told him the truth. Then the look was gone, and Connor held up his hand and helped Giles up. "Come on, we should leave. Something's bound to have heard the fight. Did you get what you needed?"

"Yes." Giles couldn't help glancing at the boy, trying to access if he had any injury. There was demon blood on Connor's shirt and arms, but he looked otherwise unhurt. _Good God_ , Giles thought, perhaps one day, he'd get to the see the boy fight. Giles got to his feet and followed Connor back to the sewers with just a single glance behind himself. He was surprised to find that there wasn't anyone-- _thing_ following them.

He might have underestimated Wesley after all.

The way through the sewers wasn't any more pleasant than walking over ground, but they agreed that it was safer. Giles found himself, not for the first time, wishing for a warm bath and the smell of fresh air. Soon now--he patted the bag full of dirt in his pocket--he might be able to go home. Of course, he still had no idea how he'd make it back, since he was pretty sure he didn't have eighteen days to walk back to where it was safe to transport back to the island.

Did they have time for safety anymore?

Perhaps not.

"Stop," Connor hissed through his teeth, putting a hand on Giles' sternum to stop him from going further.

Giles tried to look into the darkness of the sewers. He couldn't see nor hear anything. "Wha--"

"Shush," the boy growled. He closed his eyes and listened for a moment, then murmured, "Get to the hotel. Second ladder on the left, wait in the lobby." Then he was gone.

The sewer entrance was open when Giles climbed the ladder, and when his face emerged in the hotel's basement level, he saw the body of the girl, Lisa, discarded on the floor with puncture wounds on her neck. Giles didn't even look for a pulse. He grabbed his sword and lifted it.

She wouldn't rise again.

He found the lobby deserted and he sat on a bench, hands between his knees, and closed his eyes. So close to the goal. So many deaths. It had to end, one way or the other.

After a minute, fearful that he'd fall asleep if he stayed still too long, Giles got up and went to the mini-fridge for another bottle of water. It was a miracle the electricity was working at all. He hadn't considered that before. He wondered if there was hot water as well. When he turned to face the front door from the counter, he found another letter on top, folded and with _Giles_ written in Xander's now familiar scrawl.

He had no time to open it. Connor burst into the lobby from the downstairs doorway, and threw a stake into the wall, embedding it perfectly. "Motherfucker got away."

"Charles?" Giles asked, although that was more of a rhetorical question. The vampire hadn't been in its cage, and Lisa's body hadn't been drained by anyone coming in from outside, not with those wards still up.

Connor didn't dignify that with an answer, he stalked out by the front door with an "I'm going to find Angel," thrown over his shoulder.

Giles shook his head and swallowed more water, looking at the letter in his hand. Now was as good a time as any--

The door burst open again, and Angel walked in, followed just a feet behind by Connor. No Darren in sight. "I got your dragon tooth." Angel threw the bloody item on the counter and went to the fridge. Giles didn't look at him, but he knew what Angel was taking from it and drinking. He'd seen the blood packets stacked at the bottom.

"Wesley?" Angel asked after he'd discarded the empty plastic bag and come to sit on a bench next to Connor--who looked ready to pass out.

Giles shook his head. "We separated. We needed a diversion, and haven't seen him since."

No one said a word. After a moment, Giles gathered the letter and his bottle of water and went into Wesley's office. The silence was deafening.

_G,_

_Sorry, what? Wesley's a ghost? That's... I want to say it's surprising, but nothing surprises me anymore; not after all this._

_We got your instructions okay, and Willow's ready. She's been resting a lot, and so's Carly. They should be 150% good to go by the time you get back. She says you'll probably need your own rest before we do this thing, so we're gonna make sure there's plenty of food and a bed ready for you._

_You should be almost done by the time you get this. I hope you are. I--you know what, fuck this._

_I miss you. I miss you so fucking much it's like something tore right through me and got away with a piece of my soul, okay? Hurts worse than getting my fucking eye poked._

_Yeah, I'm angry. Not at you though, at myself for not figuring out this shit sooner. You'd think I'd have learned something, but no, still good ole Xander who's always late to the party. Apocalypses suck. (What's the plural of apocalypse anyway? Willow says--but it doesn't matter now, does it? Who cares how things are spelt when the world's going to hell... literally)_

_Mostly, I'm worried like... like... a fucking worried person that's what._

_Now's not the time to die either._

_X._

Giles closed his eyes and tried to remember Xander's face. It was blurry, uneven and he was certain he was remembering certain details wrong, but he'd spent a long time avoiding eye contact with him, and it was to be expected, he supposed. He wished he'd spent hours studying Xander's face instead of avoiding it.

There was no time for regrets.

Giles picked up the pen and paper he'd used earlier, and wrote _Xander,_ at the top, then stopped. What would he say? He was done, he'd see them all soon. There was no time for sentimentality. He put down the pen across the page and rubbed a tired hand on his face.

"Ready?"

Jumping to his feet, and reaching for his sword only to find it gone--he remembered leaving it downstairs, stained with the girl's blood--Giles turned and--

Wesley was standing in the doorway, what appeared to be a heavy book suspended in mid-air in front of him. "I was delayed by an extraordinary discovery." He pointed at the book just as he put it down on the desk. "Wolfram & Hart's library was still intact. It seems they'd set wards to protect their valuable collection should the building collapse. It wouldn't surprise me if that was how they managed to rebuild so quickly when we destroyed their offices before."

"What have you found?"

Wesley smiled at that and opened the book with a flick of his wrist. It settled on a page, and Giles bent down to read. "A way to send you back."

Connor came in just then, a first aid kit in his hand. He didn't look shocked at seeing Wesley there, but instead of the usual indifference, he smiled. "Hey."

"Hey," Wesley replied.

"Come on, Giles, let's get that cheek cleaned up."

It seemed while Giles had been maudlin, Connor had hunted the first floor to find out where Darren had put the kit and the last clean towels. 

By the time Giles' wound was as clean as it would get, Wesley was ready. The lobby had been cleared and the pentagram etched on the floor. Angel, one arm in a sling now--"It'll heal," he'd said simply when Giles had frowned--and the other slung over Connor's shoulders, handed Giles a plastic grocery bag.

"I wrapped up the tooth," Connor said shaking Giles' hand. "Hope you make it back."

Giles squeezed the boy's fingers. "Shouldn't take too long," he told Angel, and shook his hand also.

"Don't give up on us this time," Angel said. "We're still on the same side."

"I'll take that into consideration," Giles answered with a tight, humourless smile. "You'll remember nothing of this, of course, so the point is moot, isn't it?"

"You'll remember," Angel countered. "I think it counts for something."

"We'll see." Giles turned to Wesley and walked the few steps separating them. "Good bye, Wesley," he said simply. 

"Good luck." Wesley levitated the bowl of water and carefully tipped it over to spill on the pentagram. "Step inside."

Giles went to stand in the triangle, both feet in the puddles, and closed his eyes. He heard Wesley muttering the incantation; light flashed behind his eyelids, and then nothing.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

The first face Giles saw was Dawn's. She was crouching near his shoulder, a hand on his arm. Then he heard one of the girls--it could be Carly or Rona, he couldn't tell their voices apart--yell "He's awake!" and Dawn's expression changed from worried to relieved. "Hey," she whispered. "Welcome back to the land of the living. What's left of it, anyway."

Giles grimaced as he tried to sit up. The bed he was laid on was one of the foldout beds they'd brought with them from the Council's stores. It was far from comfortable at the best of times, but today felt like the most comfortable mattress Giles had ever slept on. Then he noticed that the walls weren't the familiar grey of the massive tent they'd put up on their first day here, but rather made of wood. "How long was I out?" he managed to say, his voice cracking on each word.

"About four hours, give or take? It's nighttime here, so we were hoping you'd get more sleep." Dawn held up a glass to his lips, and Giles sipped gratefully. It tasted sweet and reinvigorating, though the texture was similar to that of mashed potatoes mixed with too much milk. "We found some fruits, so we figured we might as well make juice," Dawn said, having apparently picked up on his facial expression. "We don't know what it is, and we don't have a blender, but it tastes okay."

"It's quite delightful, thank you."

"Welcome. There's some leftovers from dinner tonight, if you feel up to it."

Giles looked at her thoughtfully. "Who cooked?" He could hear footsteps outside the little room--it looked like a single bedroom from where he was--he couldn't sit up fully yet--though not a tent they'd brought with them.

"Vi; don't worry, she's pretty good. We're kinda taking turns and making sure Buffy doesn't get near the cooking fire." She had a laughing smile, and Giles was glad she hadn't made the journey with him. The destruction he'd seen over the past weeks would have been enough to crush that smile.

"Hey, big guy!" Xander said cheerfully when he walked in, Willow and Buffy in tow. Their expressions betrayed their exhaustion and worry, but they all at least seemed glad to see Giles awake, though Xander was the only one smiling. "How do you like my new digs?"

"Xander, it's not the time for chit-chat," Willow warned, glaring at her friend. She turned to Giles. "How do you feel?" They all sat down on the edge of his bed, and Buffy took his hand and squeezed.

"Like I've been through hell and back, actually." It was a fairly accurate description too. The aches and pains would fade, though, that much he knew. He'd been walking too long with too little rest. He'd need a whole month to recuperate. But he didn't have more than a few hours now. He could see that it was dark outside, and he hoped that was because it was night, and not--

"Don't worry," Buffy interrupted his thoughts. "It's just about ten o'clock. The darkness is still far enough away that you could get a whole day of sleep, and we'd still be on time."

"How's everyone out there?" Xander surprised him by asking. He'd have expected Buffy to ask first.

"Gone, I expect," Giles said grimly. He sat up straighter, biting back the moan of pain, and shot Dawn a grateful look when she slipped a couple of pillows behind his back. He had a feeling most of the rest of them would be sleeping without pillows that night, as they all seemed to be in here now.

Everyone looked down at the dirt floor, their expression changing to one of grief. Giles couldn't afford to grieve. He looked up to find the six Slayers they'd managed to save standing just inside the little room--Rona, Carly, Vi, Mischa, Leila and Lorraine, all that was left of a contingent of hundreds. Perhaps there were others out there, scattered and hiding, but still fighting with their last breaths. After what he'd seen, Giles didn't think it was likely.

Giles explained to everyone how the spell Wesley had cast required them to lower the wards that had been protecting the Hyperion. "The power of the transportation spell," he continued, "would have made it impossible for Wesley to put the wards back before the demons attacked."

There was very little hope that any of them had made it out alive. 

Xander was the first one to speak. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Giles had become more and more familiar with since he'd started working day in and day out with him. Xander's eye was on him as he said, "They knew what they were doing." The tone and the glance clearly meant "it's not your fault," and while Giles knew that, he couldn't stop the guilt. Reason wasn't enough anymore. He should have...

But there was still no time for regrets. Not now.

Buffy squeezed his hand again. "Yeah, they did. They knew the risks, and they knew the odds."

The silence that followed was almost as deafening as the one that had fallen on the Hyperion just hours earlier and Giles struggled to find something to say to fill it. Something that wouldn't sound trite considering the situation. It was very possible that the eleven of them were now the last living human beings on Earth. Other doorways like the one in L.A. had opened around the world--thirteen the last they'd heard, and that was weeks ago. If some people survived in the most remote regions of the world, the lack of sunlight would slowly kill them too, just as surely as demons would.

There was nothing he _could_ say right now that would make it all okay.

In an effort to focus on the task ahead, Giles reminded himself that if all went according to plan, no one would remember a thing of this nightmare. Life would go on as previously, and the only one who would have any idea of how close to annihilation the human race had come would be himself.

And he wouldn't wish to share this burden with anyone.

"The hot water's ready, by the way," Carly said, trying for a casual tone, but failing. In the light of the oil lamps, Giles could see the tears she wouldn't allow herself to cry.

The three girls stood, leaving Xander to sit by Giles' side. "We'll go get something ready for you to eat," Willow said. "In the meantime, Xander can show you where the shower is, and you can clean up."

Giles looked at his hands, noticing the weeks' worth of dirt on them, stuck under his fingernails and in any available crevices. There were many of those on his hands. He couldn't even think of what his whole body must look like.

"Yeah, we even got hot water now; it's Ritz-style commodities," Xander said, his smile not reaching his darkened eye. The eyepatch looked old now; Giles remembered Xander coming to work with a new one--only a month ago. It felt like years had passed since then.

The girls were gone when Giles managed to stand, leaning against Xander far more than he'd like. Not that Xander's touch was unwelcome; after that last letter, it certainly wasn't, but because Giles felt the need to be the strong one again.

"It's okay, Giles," Xander whispered, his hand tightening on Giles' hips as he held him up. "Let me take some of your weight, okay?"

Giles shivered--he would swear it was the cold night air, but it was probably more from the way Xander's breath ghosted over the skin of his neck--and nodded, wrapping his own arm feebly across Xander's shoulders. "Hot water, you said?"

"Yeah, we have to boil it first, so we have to keep a fire going all day to have enough for everyone, but it's worth it," Xander explained as they walked a small path behind Xander's shack. "There isn't much to do here, so I've been tinkering around; built myself a room, and we have a table with some rudimentary chairs too. Lorraine and Mischa have been helping. And Dawn, when she feels like it."

Giles could see the facilities now: a couple of stalls, with wooden walls like the shack, and doors that latched without difficulty. He stared for a second, suddenly caught by how resourceful they all were. No longer children, that was most certain. "I haven't had a shower in..." He stopped. He couldn't look back that far now, not without remembering the loneliness of his journey. He'd managed to find a deserted motel just a few hours after the car had given up; that was the last shower he'd had.

"Yeah, we noticed," Xander said, his tone would have been mocking if he could have managed it, Giles was sure. "Can you stand in there? We'll have to get those clothes off you, but once that's done, I have to activate the mechanism for the water, and we don't have a bench here. That was the next project on the list, but I guess now that won't happen."

Giles nodded--many things wouldn't be happening now--and looked at the stalls again. "I should be able to hold on and stand upright on my own while you do that."

Xander brought him closer to the wooden door and Giles leaned gratefully against it. Once this was done--

No, once this was done, he wouldn't need a vacation, because his body wouldn't be feeling this way. It would be healthy and strong like he'd been a month ago. His mind, perhaps, would need some time, but at least the ache and the pain would be gone.

Giles lifted his hands and started undoing the buttons of his shirt, grateful that Wesley had had clothes in he Hyperion that Giles could borrow. The clothes he'd left with had been in ruins by the time he'd reached L.A.. He was halfway through when he realized that he wasn't wearing the shoulder bag anymore. It made sense, of course, the others would have made sure to take it away, but he had to ask; "The satchel?"

Xander, who was reaching out to help, replied quickly, "Willow's got it. Don't worry, the tooth and the bag made it fine. The bag didn't even have a single hole on it, which is a miracle considering how you landed."

"Landed?" Xander's hands reached Giles', and his fingers glided along the young man's skin, before he let his hands fall to his sides. Xander shivered visibly, but kept going, pulling the shirt off Giles' shoulders.

"Yeah, you weren't actually standing when you got here. You were about five feet off the ground, and you fell face first in the dirt. Just a couple feet to the left, and you'd have been in the dinner pot. Gave Vi a good scare, too."

"Oh, Lord," Giles muttered, his breath hitching when Xander started unbuckling his belt. It was a good thing he was too exhausted for his body to do much more than shiver at the touch, or Xander might have been faced with something he wasn't ready for, no matter what his last letter had said. "Perhaps there was a glitch in the spell. It was supposed to deposit me directly to the ground."

"It deposited you all right." Xander smiled, although there was what seemed like an edge of worry in his voice.

At least that explained why the pain was so strong now. Walking for weeks might have been a little much for his aging body, but Giles should have at least been able to move, if uncomfortably. "I'll be fine, Xander," he found himself saying, reaching for Xander's cheek and cupping it in his palm. Xander was warm where Giles was cold.

"I know," the young man said, leaning into the touch. "I'm just glad you made it back."

"So am I."

After a moment, Xander cleared his throat and pulled back. "We should get you in there. The warm water's gonna help. I think Willow's got some painkillers too, and if she does, you can have them after we've gotten some food into you."

"That sounds wonderful," Giles sighed. It sounded, in fact, quite like heaven at this point.

Xander presented him with a wooden stick to which was attached a piece of clothing. "Homemade loofah," he offered as an explanation.

"I hope this isn't anyone's underwear."

Xander laughed, the sound sweeter than Giles remembered. "Nah, Lorraine had an extra tank top, so we used that. And Dawn was the one who thought this was a good idea. Carly and Mischa made us some soap too," he added, nodding at the corner of the stall, where some weird looking green gel in a bowl had been left. "I didn't ask what it's made of. Figured it's best if I don't know. Just get in there and hold yourself up for a minute while I start this thing."

Giles walked carefully inside, realizing that he was, in fact, completely naked now. He couldn't remember Xander helping him out of his shoes, or his undergarments, for that matter. Xander held him until Giles was braced on the wall, then disappeared behind the stall. There was the sound of a pop, then a real racket as the water started to spill. It was... absolutely, blissfully warm. He even forgot the noise.

He must have made some sound when the water first hit his skin, because when Xander reappeared, he had a smile on his face, the first to reach his eye today, and he said, "Good, isn't it?"

"Dear Lord, yes," Giles moaned.

"Can you wash yourself, or do you need me to wash your back for you?"

He hadn't thought that far ahead, apparently, because the question took Giles by surprise. "I... let me try," he replied, before carefully taking one hand--the one holding the loofah--off the thin wall. His legs wobbled, and he immediately put his hand back, not wanting to end up sprawled on the floor. "I suppose your help would be appreciated."

"That's what I'm here for; Xander the Back Scrubber, that's me."

Giles turned to face Xander, bracing his hands on each side and imagining the self-deprecating look the young man usually had when he made comments like this. Instead, Xander was still smiling. Giles found himself nodding his head for Xander to start. Definitely thankful that the exhaustion and hunger--now that he had time and brain enough to think about it, he was starving--kept his body from answering as it would have under any other circumstances.

He'd always forbidden himself to think of Xander in those terms. It hadn't always worked--there were dreams, and fantasies, and sometimes he'd even let the thoughts drive him to orgasm--but it was the only way he could keep himself from going mad. Now, though, with Xander's last letter...

"You got my letter, right?" Xander asked, as if on cue. "You know I meant every word? Even the not really nice ones."

"I know," Giles replied, his voice soft with contentment. Xander's hands were careful, especially when he reached Giles' face, and the water was working wonders on his aching body.

Xander reached past Giles for the gelatine soap, smearing it into his hands as he asked Giles to turn around. He complied. The feeling of Xander's fingers on his skin was almost enough to break through the exhaustion-induced fog of his mind. Giles' cock stirred, but stayed soft. "Xander," he groaned when skilled hands hit a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

"You okay?" the young man whispered, his voice hoarser than Giles would have thought.

He looked over his shoulder, watching with a newfound fondness the look of concentration on Xander's features. "Yes," he murmured back. "Thank you." He was already starting to feel more human; the memories of his journey far from his mind with Xander so close.

"No big," Xander answered, his cheeks flushing when he reached Giles' buttocks. "Not really how I imagined touching you the first time--although nakedness was totally part of the plan--but, hey, you're saving the world, the least I can do is give you a rub down."

Giles smiled, wishing he could reach back and bring Xander closer--to kiss him, perhaps, but mostly just to touch, to feel somebody else's heartbeat next to his.

Heartbeat.

Heart.

Xander's heart; Giles' heart.

"Oh, Lord," he murmured as sudden realization hit him like a brick. The last part of the spell, the one the book they'd had from the Council hadn't been very forthcoming about, said "and the caster's heart must bleed; its blood will flow freely to seal the doorways of evil." Giles had been able to verify it against Wesley's text; it hadn't been mistranslated.

Giles had assumed though, that it meant piercing his own flesh and blood heart--a sword through the chest would do, he'd thought--dying for the good of humanity, in other words. To be reborn.

But no. If he was right--and please let him be, they couldn't afford to make mistakes now, not so close to the goal--then his death was not required. Xander was his heart.

In the metaphorical sense, Xander was his heart, Giles' reason to be doing all this. Why he'd left on this journey in the first place.

He'd have to have known, if subconsciously, that he was the only one who could do this. With Kennedy dead, Willow was out; Buffy didn't have magical power enough to cast the spell in the first place, and even if she did, the chances of Dawn fitting the spell's definition of "heart" were slim to none; and Carly, the only one left in their troop with magical powers, had no lovers or family left to try.

Giles had Xander.

Xander who had said, in his letter, that Giles felt like part of his own soul to him. At least, unless Xander meant something completely different, but the tone he'd used when he'd asked Giles earlier if he'd received the letter, that tone left no doubt in Giles' mind that Xander had meant it the way Giles had understood it. Xander loved him.

The realization made Giles' knees buckle from underneath him, and he only half heard Xander's "Whoa there, Giles," as he caught him before Giles' hands gave up. Not a moment too soon.

"Hey, hey," Xander breathed against Giles' neck. "Come on, hold yourself back up so I can finish and turn off the water. I'll get a good hold on you afterwards, and we can get you to lie down."

The water was running colder now, and Giles thought the noise had gotten louder. He did as he was told, on autopilot, and stood as still as he could while Xander gave his hair a quick wash--careful, so careful not to get soap into Giles' eyes and his wound--and declared him as clean as he'd get.

"I'm gonna go turn off the water; just don't fall down, okay?"

Giles gave a shaky nod, water running into his eyes. He was feeling dizzy. "Nothing a little food won't fix," he assured himself. Food and sleep if he could have it; have both and Xander too.

Xander, who would have to bleed tomorrow.

He told Xander he was fine when the young man reappeared after the water stopped, that he only needed to eat and rest, and the dizziness would fade. Xander seemed to accept that, though the look he gave Giles clearly meant that he wasn't off the hook yet.

Giles couldn't understand how his body which had sustained him for three weeks on next to no food, very little sleep, and countless hours of walking and dragging, suddenly was failing him like this after only a couple of hours of rest. It had been a good thing that he hadn't accepted Angel's offer of a bed, after all; there was no way of knowing how Giles would have sustained it. Although perhaps the knowledge that things needed to be done was what had kept him going then. Now... now he had time to rest until the sun came up, and that would be many hours still.

Giles turned back to Xander and tried for a smile when he saw the inquiring look Xander was throwing him. There was a time for everything, and right now, with Giles naked and wet and suffering from near starvation, wasn't the time to answer the questions Xander so clearly wanted to ask. Right now was the time to, apparently as his body decided against Giles' wishes, stumble once more when Xander reached to help him out of the stall.

Giles stumbled forward a few steps and collided with Xander, ending up pressed against him from shoulders to hips. Xander's arms came around Giles immediately, and Giles shivered, shifting forward until he could feel the state of Xander's arousal against his leg. He pressed forward as he wrapped his own arms around Xander's torso, uncaring about his state of undress or that he was leaking water all over Xander's clothing.

Xander made such sweet, _sweet_ sounds.

Giles shifted his thigh again just to hear it once more, the way Xander's breath came shorter, the moan that escaped his lips. Xander brought his hands from behind Giles' back and cupped his cheeks, so warm on Giles' skin. He was careful to avoid the still healing scar. And then Xander's lips were on Giles', his tongue demanding entrance before Giles had even processed what was happening.

He let Xander's tongue in eagerly, moaning from his chest up to his throat. Xander shivered against him and their lips pressed harder together, their mouths fused with a desperation that Giles would forever associate with the end of the world. It couldn't have happened any other way, of that he was sure.

The world was ending; tomorrow, if they succeeded, it would be reborn, but for now, Giles would kiss Xander and not let him go.

When Xander finally pulled back, pupils dilated, his hips still rubbing against Giles', Giles smiled. The muscles of his cheeks hurt from it, and his wound pulled, but the answering smile he got in return made up for the pain. "Let's get you dry, okay?" Xander said breathlessly. "I forgot to bring you a set of clothes; I can lead you back to my shack like this, the girls won't see a thing if we come up from behind, or you can put your old clothes back on."

Giles looked down at the stained clothing and shook his head. "We can burn them." He had no desire to put them back on, no matter how comfortable and fresh they'd felt when he'd taken them from Connor's arms earlier that day. "I'd much rather lie down now."

"We still need to take care of your wound," Xander added. "We can do that now, or, you know, when we're somewhere a little less exposed."

Giles gave a little smile, and nodded. "Let's get back to your room, then."

Xander helped him dry himself with one of the towels that were hung near the showers. Again, Giles felt a pang of pride at how resourceful they had all been while he'd gone away. He hadn't expected them to be waiting in agony for him to come back, but they'd by far exceeded his expectations. Not that he'd had much of them, either, seeing as there was little hope that he'd see them again, but he'd never thought in a million years that they'd make a home of this island.

Xander put arm behind Giles' back and let him put his weight against him. "I'll get you into bed, clean up your face, and then I'll go get you some food." He led Giles back unto the path they'd come from, then off the left at a small crossroad.

"You should eat too," Giles said.

"I had dinner," Xander replied, kicking away a stray branch that had fallen on the path. "It's not like we have unlimited supplies, you know. We'll still need to get breakfast in the morning."

"Promise me," Giles asked, thinking about everything he'd like to happen that night--burying himself into Xander's body for the first, and last, time, feeling him breathe against Giles' chest; he probably wasn't strong enough for much, but anything to feel Xander next to him would do--"Promise me if there's enough, you will eat again."

Xander looked at Giles strangely, but nodded. "Promise," he agreed. "I'll ask Vi, and bring enough for two if she thinks it's good."

"Thank you."

Instead of coming into the room from the front door--that gave into the bigger encampment, if a little apart--they arrived behind the shack, and Xander opened a door that Giles hadn't even seen on his first cursory look of the room. "My little secret passage," Xander whispered, a hint of his old mischievous self in the tone, as he helped Giles inside. They emerged on the opposite side from the bed, next to a small table that held a bowl of water and shaving attire. "Had to have a way to get in and out without the ladies asking a billion questions. Sometimes, a guy just has to take a piss, you know." Giles gave a short chuckle at that, and Xander lowered him as gently as he could managed--which was a little bumpy, Giles had to admit--onto the bed. Xander pulled the thin covers over Giles' body and bent over for a quick kiss. The next moment, he'd gone out again the same way they'd come with a "I'll be right back" said over his shoulder.

Giles sighed deeply and wished there was more light in the room then there was. Only a lamp on the small table next to the bed cast a glow on the dark room. Outside, the moon and the stars had provided more than enough light for what they'd had to do, but there was barely enough light inside for Giles to see his own feet.

Xander came back loaded with a first aid kit, an extra lamp, and two plates full of food, the whole precariously stuffed on a make-shift tray. The girls had obviously prepared their plates while they'd been at the showers, because that was a bit fast for Xander to have done it himself. "Everyone's gone to bed except Buffy and Leila."

"Standing guard?" Giles asked, feeling refreshed enough after the shower to prop himself up with pillows on his own--if he ignored the slight dizziness, which he did. "Buffy looked quite tired earlier."

"Yeah," Xander replied evasively. He put down the tray at the end of the bed, and picked up the first aid kit first. "Don't want any food in the wound, do we?" he said when Giles stared forlornly at the mixture of fruits and unknown meat on the plates.

"I suppose not," he admitted. He would have to ask about Buffy and why she was standing guard when she obviously needed rest, but he sat obediently silent while Xander opened the bag and took out the gauze and disinfectant from it.

"You need stitches." Xander's breath ghosted over the skin of Giles' neck, and he shivered. "I guess I could ask one of the girls to do it, I suck at it."

"I'd rather you did it than wake one of them up for this," Giles replied with a hiss. Xander had applied the disinfectant, and as good a job as Connor had done back in L.A., it apparently hadn't been perfect.

"If you want to stay disfigured, sure."

"It doesn't matter much now, does it?" Giles countered back. "Nothing will come of it after tomorrow."

"When we're either dead, or the time's gone back, got it," Xander said. He foraged into the kit once more. The suture kit was at the very bottom, and Xander held it triumphantly a moment later. "There we go."

Giles hissed as the needle entered his skin, but barely felt the pain. He put a hand on Xander's knee, just to remind himself that he could still feel, and settled to let Xander work.

"Casual touching's not usually your thing," Xander said, his eye furrowed in concentration.

"There's no time for a careful seduction now." If Xander had realized before... If Giles had known... But it didn't matter any longer. If--no, _when_ the spell worked, Giles would have time to try this again. Properly.

"I guess you're right." Xander pulled back to grab the scissors and cut the thread. "There, you're all stitched up. Does that mean I get to kiss you again?"

"Yes," Giles replied, already leaning in and brushing his lips over Xander's before the word was fully formed.

They only stopped kissing long enough to eat.

* * *

It was the middle of the night when Giles felt Xander stir. He'd fallen asleep with his head on Giles' chest falling and rising in time with Giles' breathing.

Giles had only closed his eyes for a moment, an hour at most. The island was quiet, such a far cry from the noisy demon-run world that Giles had been unable to sleep. He'd been content to watch Xander instead; his first moment of peace in so long, it felt like several lifetimes had passed. He'd smiled, softly, remembering the look on Xander's face when Giles had entered him, the sound he'd made when he'd come. 

Xander lifted his head and smiled. "Hey, can't sleep?" he asked, groggy.

Giles kissed Xander's forehead instead of answering. Xander grinned then, and moved up until he could kiss Giles' lips fully, his tongue already moving between them to tangle with Giles'. There was no penetration this time, just Xander's body over his, and soft moans filling up the cabin as they moved.

Giles came first, and then held Xander's cock, stroking it until Xander came and lay back on Giles' chest. Xander's breathing evened, and Giles felt his own eyes closing when Xander spoke.

"When this is over, you know, when you save the world and everything's back like it was, I want to remember."

"Xander, no--" Giles argued feebly. He was seconds from falling asleep.

"Please, Giles, promise me. You can't remember all of this on your own. I know you want to be the hero, and you will, you _are_ , but shit, Giles, this isn't just a demon clan or a couple of people dead, this is... this is the _whole world_ gone to hell. You can't bear that on your own." Xander lifted his head and looked straight into Giles' eyes. The sight of Xander's eye socket without its patch made Giles want to protect him even more. "Promise," Xander said again. "Come on."

"Xander," Giles tried again, but he didn't have the strength to argue further. Xander was right, Giles knew he was. "I'll ask."

"Promise."

"Promise," Giles said finally, tightening his arms around Xander. "I can't say it will be done, but if everything goes according to plan, I will ask that your memories be restored as well."

"Thank you."

Giles had no recollection of falling asleep when he woke up in the morning. The sun was barely up against the horizon, and the soft light filled the room when he opened his eyes. Xander was already up. His eyepatch was gone from the small table, and so were his clothes.

Giles grabbed a pair of patched jeans from the bottom of the bed, looking at them dubiously. They'd obviously been put there for him to find, but he had no idea who they could be from. He pulled them on and grabbed a discarded shirt from the floor. It was a little tight, but at least he was covered and mostly clean.

He walked down the slope into the clearing, finding everyone but Buffy there, sipping some kind of hot liquid. "Coffee?" he asked, hopefully.

"Nah," Xander replied, patting the rustic looking chair next to him. "Some kind of tea; you'll like it."

Mischa added, "We found some tea leaves about a half a mile over there." She pointed at the cover of the trees. "We're not sure what _type_ of tea they are, but it's tea."

Giles picked up the cup Dawn handed him and sipped. It had a much more familiar texture than the juice he'd been given the night before. "Delicious."

"Glad it meets your English standards," Xander said with a grin. "Come on, sit down. Vi's gonna have breakfast ready in a minute."

"It'd be faster if one of you lot would help," Vi groaned from the fire pit.

"You're the one who said to get out of your way," Xander replied, and the rest of them laughed.

"Yes, well, you were _eating_ more than helping."

"Where's Buffy?" Giles asked Willow as he sat next to Xander, surprised when Xander's hand came to rest on his thigh.

"Sleeping," Willow answered, keeping her eyes on her cup. Since Kennedy's death, she hadn't been the same.

"It's like this every morning," Dawn continued. "She's slept barely two hours a day since we got here. She takes watch every night, and won't let anyone else take over her spot so she can rest."

"But when the sun's up," Xander said when Dawn stopped, "she's out like a light until the aroma of breakfast brings her out. Shouldn't be too long now."

There were eggs on his plate when Vi handed it to him. He didn't ask where they came from. Neither did he ask what the fruit was or how they'd acquired bread. He figured it was best to eat without asking, and no one volunteered the information.

It was difficult and painful to stand up after the meal, and Xander held out a hand to help, and didn't take it away afterwards, while they walked to the beach. Buffy joined them there, looking even more tired than she had the night before. "So, when do we do this thing?"

Giles looked at his hand in Xander's and squeezed before he let it go. "Now would be a good time, I suppose." They could see the sun over the water and no darkness, for now. The water was peaceful. "I'll need to go back to Xander's cabin to--"

"Here!" Carly yelled as she came running onto the beach. "I got everything."

"Well, I guess that settles it."

Giles directed Lorraine and Dawn to start the fire while Carly, Willow, Rona and Vi drew the pentagram in the sand and bordered it with rocks. Buffy took Mischa and Leila to find more wood to keep the fire going and bring some blankets for everyone to sit on. The ritual would take quite a long time. Giles put the dragon's tooth down next to the circle in the middle of the pentagram, and left the bag of soil in the very middle. He'd have to spill it in the circle later, kneel in it to focus the spell on the main portal. Once that one was gone, all the other doors would follow.

He looked up to find Xander watching him, arms crossed and his lips tight. Giles told Willow he was going for a walk, and pulled Xander with him into the woods. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Xander admitted, leaning against a tree and kicking his foot into the dirt. "I guess I just feel completely useless. I could have gone with Buffy and the girls, you know."

"I know." Giles hadn't wanted him out of his sight, but it felt self-centered to say so now. He did anyway.

"Why?" Xander asked, as if the answer wasn't obvious.

Giles put a hand on Xander's shoulder and stepped closer. "We have little time, and I... I suppose I'm feeling rather not myself." He leaned his forehead against Xander's and breathed, eyes closed. 

"We'll remember this though," Xander said. He grabbed Giles' forearms and pulled him flush against his chest.

He'd promised, Giles remembered. "Yes," he whispered. He knew he himself would not forget a moment, but Xander... he had doubts that the Powers would grant Giles anything more than a second opportunity to save the world. He'd ask, however, that much he could do.

"Still, if this ritual doesn't work--"

"It will," Xander murmured with conviction. "It will and we'll be safe. Everyone'll be safe."

Giles nodded and searched for Xander's lips, kissing his face as he went down until their mouths met and they lost themselves in a kiss. Giles shivered then just like he had the night before when Xander had whispered his name "Rupert" in between a moan and a jab of his hips. "I love you," he whispered. He breathed Xander in, and told him about his part in the ritual. 

When they emerged on the beach again, Buffy was standing, watching over the Slayers who were all sitting on blankets, looking much older than they were. Willow was sitting next to Carly, the book settled between them as they talked. "Ready?" Giles asked, and the girls nodded, all of them standing. Giles' hand tightened in Xander's. "Take your place."

It surprised him that no one said anything when Xander followed Giles into the circle. Giles gave him a handful of dirt, and together they spill it around them and knelt. Willow handed him the book, and went back to kneel on the edge of the fifth circle inside the pentagram, right next to the burning fire. Carly was kneeling at the very tip of the one triangle, while all the others were standing in a half-circle, surrounding them and watching.

Giles closed his eyes and started reciting the first part of the spell.

He had no idea how much time had passed when Willow spilled the last of the eye of newt into the fire, and he reached out for the knife. The sun was almost right over their heads, and Giles noticed the darkness for the first time, stretching over the horizon and looming just on the edge. Xander had been right; it had almost reached the island.

He held out his hand and brought Xander's wrist to his chest. Their eyes locked. Xander gulped. Giles ran his thumb over Xander's palm, hoping to soothe the chills, hoping that his feeling would be heard through the touch. He couldn't speak now; it would break the spell and everything would have gone to waste. They didn't have time to start over again.

The knife was heavy in Giles' hand, and he brought it up, waiting for Xander's nod, before he pressed the tip to Xander's skin. Giles gulped, once, twice. He breathed; through his mouth first, then steadily through his nose, calming himself. He had a task to do, and a world to save.

With that thought in mind, his eyes locked on Xander's wrist. Giles pressed harder with the knife and slashed across the skin, watching the blood fall on the soil. Xander might have screamed; Giles couldn't hear anything over the rumbling of the Earth. Thunder roared overhead, and a bright light overcame everything.

Giles felt the power of the spell flowing through his veins like fire.

And Xander bled. And bled. And bled.

Xander's face had gone pale, and Giles tugged him against his chest, holding him and his wrist, dry sobs racking through his body; so much blood spilled, too much, but the rumbling hadn't stopped. "Let the world be saved," he whispered under his breath. "Do not let this be all for nothing."

And suddenly, everything stopped.

Giles looked up to find the sky cleared, and everyone on the beach was frozen in place, unmoving. He could see Dawn and Buffy's worried expression as they watched Xander bleed to death in Giles' arms. He didn't blame the anger he could read in their eyes.

Giles could still feel Xander's heart beating--slower, almost faint--against his chest. He hadn't killed him, yet, but if time had to start again now, it would happen.

"Watcher. Rupert. Giles," a disembodied voice said from above, mechanical and cold.

"Yes?" he answered, uncertain. Was this what he'd been waiting for? Was the world saved?

"Stand."

Giles looked at Xander and shook his head. "No."

"Stand."

"No," he said again, this time louder, his arms tightening around Xander. As soon as the word left his lips, he was blinded by a bright light, and he closed his eyes, leaning away from it.

"Look at me." The voice was closer, warmer, almost human, and Giles looked up, finding a creature standing before him, just at the edge of the pentagram. Man or woman Giles couldn't tell. It was wearing a white robe with no shoes. "The doors of darkness are closing, Watcher. One by one, and only one remains."

"Oh, thank God," Giles sighed in relief, his grip loosening. "What about the one?"

"It will close, in time. There was much evil to vanquish, and a heart is only human, despite the strength it carries." The creature's lips were barely moving as he spoke.

"But it will be done?"

"Yes, Watcher, it will. You are granted one wish for this world."

Giles already had the answer to that. "Turn back time."

"Would you not wish that everyone who has died lived?"

"No." Xander wouldn't live long enough for anyone to get him to a hospital, and the world would stay broken. Scarred. "I wish to have the chance to put this to right."

"So you will. Your memories will be like a dream; no one else but you will remember, and you will have to save the world. Again." It hadn't even moved an inch since it appeared.

Giles shook his head. "I would like Xander to retain his memories."

"The heart must forget," the creature said in the same even tone.

"Please," Giles added, resolved to beg for this. "He must remember."

"No. You will be granted your wish. A reminder will be left to you to help you remember. That is all the Powers can promise."

In an instant, it was gone. Time started its course again and Giles looked down, his eyes locking with Xander's. "Xander, my heart," he whispered, kissing Xander's forehead and not caring that tears were falling from his eyes. " _My heart_ , I'm sorry."

Xander's raspy breathing tickled Giles' jaw and he heard, feebly, "I love you."

And the whole world turned to black.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Epilogue**

Giles turned over in his bed, and reached for his clock, before he realized it was the incessant knocking on the door--added to the shrieked "Mr. Giles!"--that had woken him up, and not the shrill ring of the alarm. He sat up and blinked. Barely seven in the morning; Giles had gone to bed much too late again the previous evening, and then he'd had the strangest dream... "What is it, Andrew?" he asked, rubbing a hand on his face and reaching for his glasses. It had better be important, or else he'd have to rethink the idea of rooming with both Andrew and Xander in the same house.

"Urgent phone call from L.A." Andrew replied, sounding panicked. "Wesley says it's important."

Giles groaned. He'd no wish to deal with any of Angel's crew, not that early in the morning, not ever if he could. He couldn't think why Wesley would be calling _him_ with an emergency; Giles had made it quite clear to them he wasn't going to clean up their mess. He ran a head in his hair and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. He'd have two tablets of paracetamol with breakfast, it seemed like; this headache felt like it had been going on for days, but he couldn't remember--

"Please, do tell him to--" Giles was about to say that he'd call back--perhaps later, much later; perhaps never if he could--when he came face to face with himself in the mirror on the dresser. The scar on his cheek was barely a day old, and he couldn't remember a fight the day before. "Hold on," he told Andrew, his voice tight with dread.

Had it been real then? The end of the world, Andrew and everyone else dead? The long walk, the pain--he touched his forehead again. Xander? Had everything been real and not a dream?

He touched the wound with the tip of his fingers and hissed when the pressure gave way to pain. Definitely real. The creature sent by the Powers had said he'd be left with a reminder. He remembered his conversation with Xander, just before the wound had been stitched up. Perhaps he should have woken up one of the girls after all. The wound was not as well stitched as it could have been.

"I'll be downstairs immediately," he croaked at Andrew. He felt dehydrated; he needed to eat, hunger tightening his stomach. He needed to sleep for a week. Giles rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses. No time to put on his contact lenses.

"Okay, boss!"

Giles heard Andrew rushing down the stairwell, and quickly pulled on his trousers and shirt, which he'd discarded on a chair last night before bed. He grabbed a clean pair of socks from the drawer and opened the door of his room.

He ignored his flatmates' wide eyes and barely heard Xander mumbling, "What happened to your face?" around his morning cereal. Giles shook his head and grabbed the telephone from Andrew's hands. He'd been a bit too brisk, he realized, when the boy yelped, and he gave Andrew an apologetic smile. "Wesley," he said into the phone and then continued without waiting for Wesley to acknowledge him. "I'll have a group of slayers on location in one hour, and we'll all leave England as soon as we possibly can."

"How did you--"

"It's a long story," Giles interrupted him, "one that will be better told once this apocalypse is averted and the world doesn't go to hell. Please do try to stave off Angel as much as you can until we arrive."

"I'll do my best." There was no conviction in the tone.

"Oh," Giles added, rubbing his forehead and trying to will his brain to work faster--food and water, no, tea, should help--"ask him to grab a tooth from the dragon once it's dead; tell him he'll understand in due time." Giles hung up the phone and turned to find Xander had put down his bowl and was eyeing him strangely. "I have no time to explain the situation more than once," Giles said before either he or Andrew could ask questions. "Give Buffy a call, and have everyone meet us in the mansion's front room in fifteen minutes."

Xander nodded, no questions asked. Giles had expected him to at least wonder, but perhaps Giles' tone was enough to give Xander an idea of the urgency of the situation. Xander grabbed the cordless phone from the table at the bottom of the stairs and went up while dialling. "Buff? Emergency--" was all Giles heard before the door of Xander's room was shut, cereal bowl forgotten on the kitchen counter. Giles grabbed a muffin and set about preparing tea. He wouldn't have time for anything elaborate, but _something_ would have to do. He did need his wits to function.

"Andrew, I want you to call our Californian group and send them to this street corner," he said, when he realized Andrew was still staring at him. He picked up a scrap of paper and wrote down the coordinates Wesley had given him before he'd left L.A. "And pass me Brian as soon as you possibly can."

Brian would know who to send to make sure Wesley and Charles survived this. There was no possible way for Giles and the others to arrive on time, and he'd be damned if he let them walk to their deaths.

Giles ate and drank quickly, pulling on his socks and shoes and meeting Andrew in the doorway on their way out. "Xander, we'll be over at the mansion. Come quickly," he called, going out when Xander said, "Sure! I'll be right there."

The mansion was the Giles family home. It had been built in the eighteenth century, by the first Watcher of their line. It wasn't nearly big enough for everyone to live there, and Giles had taken the decision to leave it to the women. There were only three men, and it was easier to put slayers four to six to a room than it was for Giles, Andrew, and Xander to share close quarters. Buffy and Dawn shared the master's quarters, and there was enough room there for Willow and Kennedy to join them whenever their travels brought them to London.

Fortunately, the front room was more than wide enough for everyone to stand in and listen. Giles arrived to find most of the girls already there, and he asked them to quiet down immediately. "Where are Dawn and Rona?" he asked Buffy when he noticed the two were missing. "I need everyone here."

"They're coming down. They were sleeping when you called. Ali and Henriette were out on a run, they should be here in a second."

Andrew already had a pen and paper out for note-taking--the boy was sometimes annoying in his efficiency--and when he turned to the window, Giles could see Xander and the two runners coming towards the house at high speed. "All right, we'll start now," he said as soon as the door closed behind them and Dawn and Rona came down the stairs.

He hadn't expected all of them to believe him on the first try, but it seemed that the sight of his scar and the stern tone he used as he spoke were enough to keep everyone quiet. "We'll make sure this future never happens. That is why we are here."

"But it did happen," Xander argued. "To you, anyway."

Giles took a deep breath and took off his glasses. "Yes, I suppose you're right, but no one else but me must remember. I want everyone dressed and fed in half an hour, ready to go. Andrew, have the jet ready at the airport. Xander, Buffy, Willow and Carly, you'll follow me for the last details." Giles waved at all of them to follow him and they headed for the study. He went straight for the bookshelves and picked up the book they had found the first time they'd researched this. He opened it on the right page quickly and handed it to Willow. "Carly and yourself will gather all the ingredients detailed here. Do not worry about the last three."

She nodded and grabbed Andrew's pad, shaking her head when he started to protest. "I need this, thank you."

"Andrew, do call for the plane now, please." Giles sighed and shook his head. Children. "Buffy, I've contacted Brian, and he'll have the twenty Slayers under his care on the scene in less than an hour, but I'll need you to call Gareth, Faith and Jude and have them on standby, should we need reinforcement."

"I'm on it."

"And me?" Xander asked, bouncing on the soles of his feet. "What do I get to do to save the world?"

"Nothing for now," Giles said with a soft smile. "But I promise you the world could not be saved without you."

"Okay, then." Xander grinned at him, if a little strained. "At least, let me get us all some fuel. We're gonna need it. Coffee, tea, donuts? I'm thinking a Starbucks run, and I'll get donuts from the store across the street."

"Very good idea."

* * *

Giles had never been so thankful that the previous Council had gotten itself a private jet and that it had been spared in the destruction of the Council buildings. There were no waiting lines, no check-ins, no Customs to go through. Within an hour, everyone was walking across Bath's small airport's tarmac and climbing up the ramp into the plane. Fifteen minutes later, they were in the air, chewing on donuts and sipping their lattes and other Starbucks beverages. Giles took a sip of his tea, and sighed, letting his head fall against the headrest. The flight would be a long one.

There was time aplenty then to teach Willow and Carly the protection spell and to build protection around Xander. "You'll be staying with me while the others go off to fight. I'll need you there for the ritual." Xander had a frown on his face, but Giles warded off any of his questions. They had no privacy on the plane; now was not the time for questioning. 

Brian Curtis was waiting for them at LAX, with a school bus and a grim expression. Andrew opted to stay in the plane, using its table and comfortable seats as a command center. Remembering the broken body he'd found on his way out of the mansion the first time, Giles was all too happy to agree. Andrew might have his faults, but it wouldn't do to lose him a second time. 

"What news?" Giles asked Brian, already leading the girls into the bus.

"Wyndham-Pryce and the other guy are good. We had to get Mr. Gunn to the hospital, he lost a lot of blood, but he's going to make it. Wesley's back in the fight. He wouldn't back off," Brian said, nodding grimly. They'd been at school together, if Giles remembered correctly. There was a hint of surprise in Brian's voice, as if he himself couldn't believe how changed Wesley was. 

Giles climbed in after everyone, and stood at the head of the bus, taking in the close to twenty girls all sitting silently and waiting for him to speak. He wouldn't be giving them a long speech, not this time. "You're all going to disperse yourselves out there and fight," he told them simply, and then he turned to Buffy. "As soon as you see Angel, have him meet me at the Wolfram & Hart building, or at least as far as he can get with the sun up, and send Wesley with him."

"Okay." She turned to everyone else. "You heard the man, let's go kick some butts!" The cheers were loud and Giles climbed back down with a wave to Brian, who took his place in the driver's seat. The door shut and they were off.

Giles motioned for the others to follow him inside, where reports of the downtown destruction were being blasted on the screens. The rental car attendant was miraculously fast, and they were on the road only half an hour behind the bus.

The sight of downtown, with its fallen buildings, was eerily familiar. Giles got out of the car first and couldn't repress a shiver. The others followed him out and crowded around him.

"Okay, what's that?" Xander asked, pointing at the portal.

Giles shushed him, and shaking his head to clear his thoughts he led them all to the building he'd hidden behind with Connor. "That's the portal to hell," he answered, when he was certain they wouldn't be noticed. Of course, coming down here with a car had probably not been the smartest plan if they didn't want any of the demons to know they were there, but so far their luck was holding. The area was seemingly deserted except for the Loplekcs they could see guarding the doors.

"Oh my goddess," Willow whispered, and Giles turned to face the portal again; another pair of Loplekc were coming through and walked right past them. "How are we going to get there?"

"We don't need to be near the portal for the spell to work I only need to grab some soil, and then we can do this here." Giles turned to them and said, "Carly, you'll follow me; Xander will assist Willow." 

"Hey, I can fight," Xander protested.

"I know you can," Giles replied quickly, squeezing Xander's shoulder. "But the guards around the portal are Loplekcs." He nodded at the two demons that were making their way further into the city, away from them. "They have claws the size of your arm, as you can see, and are very quick to pick up on anyone's handicap." And Giles did not want Xander fighting just now. This would all be for nothing if anything happened to him.

Xander touched the edge of his eyepatch and said with a soft sigh, "Okay. I get it." Giles knew he hated being reminded of his lost eye, but there was nothing Giles could do about it then.

He looked around at the alley and shook his head. "This won't do," he told Willow. "We need a spot where the sun is very prominent."

She nodded and looked at Xander. "We'll look for something close by."

"Stay hidden as much as you can," Giles warned.

"Don't worry," Xander replied, holding out the crossbow. He'd become quite good at using it, despite his lack of depth perception; Giles had been more than a little impressed with him when he'd watched Xander train--he'd also been impressed by the muscular arms and firm-looking body yielding the crossbow, but he wouldn't have told Xander that. Not yet. "We'll be careful."

Giles watched them go with a certain feeling of dread, but turned resolutely to Carly. He motioned for her to follow him, and they went to the edge of the building, hiding behind a mangled piece of metal.

"You'll have to lure them away from the doorway," Giles told Carly nodding at the Loplekcs guarding the portal. "I need to be within ten feet of it to grab the most potent soil for the spell."

Carly nodded and pursed her lips. "I guess the best way would be to make a lot of noise and go that way." She pointed at the street, which was still mostly intact. "How long do you need me to hold them for?"

"As long as possible," Giles answered, scratching the back of his neck thoughtfully. "I'll have to do some digging to reach the soil, and I've no idea how hard that would be."

"We should have kept Leila with us," Carly said, sighing. "She's good at digging. Maybe we should take Xander--"

"No," Giles said vehemently. Perhaps a little _too_ vehemently, he supposed, when Carly looked at him with a frown. "I'll need him later; I can't risk it." He knew he was risking Xander right now, sending him out to find a spot of sunlight wide enough for them to draw the pentagram on, but it was different from sending him straight into harm's way. He shook his head and looked straight ahead. Both Xander and Willow were protected like he'd been; they would be fine.

Carly nodded without asking any further questions. A moment later, she stood, squeezed his shoulder, and took off. She ran without making a sound until Giles couldn't see her anymore. "Good luck," he muttered under his breath, resuming his lookout.

Finally, about two minutes after Carly had gone, both demons were distracted by the sound of something collapsing--perhaps the wall of a fallen building, he thought, though it sounded more like a bomb going off than anything else--and they left the portal to investigate. Giles patted his coat pocket to make sure he still had the bag. Reassured somewhat that at the very least he had something to put dirt in, he made his way carefully towards the doorway. His instincts kept him on edge, waiting for demons to be crawling the place, for something to come out of the portal any time now, but nothing happened as he walked.

It was almost too much luck. He hoped all that it meant was that the demons were too busy fighting to pay attention to much else, not that there would be an ambush waiting. He reached the open space before the portal and looked down at the ground, pieces of metal, rock and asphalt littering the place. A spot had been cleared within the first five or so feet in front of the door to hell, but Giles looked at it and decided not to come any closer. He had no idea what kind of an effect the portal would have on him, and he'd no wish to be swallowed by it, or to have something push him through while he was attempting to gather enough soil.

Quickly, he pushed away the debris, yelping when his finger caught on a sharp edge. Droplets of his blood mixed with the soil as he picked it up, but he had no time to bandage the cut now. He filled the bag and sealed it. When he looked up, the two Loplekcs were just a yard away, looking towards him. "Uh oh," he muttered, looking for Carly. Just as the Loplekc seemed to notice his presence and start running, one of them collapsed, and its friend stopped to see what was going on.

Giles took this opportunity and ran as fast as he could, jumping up to hide behind the scrap of metal from earlier. He looked back when he couldn't hear the sounds of anyone following him, and saw the second Loplekc was down as well. Carly was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Giles!" he heard from above. He looked up and found Xander on the building top, crossbow in hand. "There's a ladder on the other side. Come on up."

Still breathing heavily, Giles stood and ran to the ladder, climbing the stairs two by two, then pushing himself up to the roof when the top landing stopped short of reaching it.

"This works, right?" Xander asked, holding out his hands to show off the rooftop.

Giles took in the gravel floor and the sunlight beaming from the east and nodded. "This is perfect," he said, giving Xander a smile. He looked at the crossbow and raised an eyebrow. "Did you--"

"Save your life?" Xander finished for him as he put the crossbow down against the edge. "Yeah. I got the first one easy, but the second one took a couple tries."

"Impressive," Giles whispered. He looked up at Xander and then away at the sky. The west was already darkening, and Giles could start to feel time pressing them on. "We should get going."

Xander took Giles to the other side, behind the door leading to the inside stairwells, where Willow was already drawing the pentagram into the gravel with a stick. Much easier and faster than if she'd had to move rocks to create it. Xander hadn't asked about Carly, but it was the first thing Willow asked when she saw him.

"I've no idea," Giles admitted. "We separated, but I haven't seen her since." He didn't want to think about what it might mean, not just then.

Xander had brought out a metal garbage container he'd found just inside the door and was filling it with wooden furniture and paper from a recycling bin. "No one's going to say anything about it," he said for sole explanation. "It's not like they'll notice their bookshelf's missing with half of downtown destroyed."

Giles couldn't fault the logic, and they needed to keep a fire going for a while either way; he was just thankful Xander had found anything at all. He helped Willow draw the pentagram, then lined up the ingredients close to where Willow would be sitting. He kept the soil in his pocket; they were still missing the dragon tooth.

"Hold on, this is gonna hurt," they heard coming from below. Xander rushed to look down, crossbow in hand, when all of a sudden two bodies leapt up and onto the roof. Carly gave a little cry of pain, then bit her lip as Connor put her down against the staircase wall, facing Willow.

"Connor," Giles said, relieved to see both him and Carly in one piece.

Connor frowned. "You know me?"

"I--yes, no, it's a long story. Is Wesley behind you?"

Eyeing him carefully, Connor seemed to decide it wasn't worth pursuing the question, and he said, "He's coming up the stairs. Could only take one of them at a time."

When Giles looked at him, Xander had his crossbow aimed at the boy, and Giles told him to put it down. "He's on our side," he said, when Xander proved reluctant to do as he was told.

"How do you know? He just jumped up ten floors with a girl in his arms. Don't tell me he's human."

Connor rolled his eyes with all the grace of a teenager and crossed his arms. "And I would save a slayer why?"

The look on Xander's face clearly meant he would have kept arguing if Wesley hadn't reached the landing, and said, "Giles, I have your tooth. And now would you mind telling me--"

"In good time, Wesley," Giles replied, taking the dragon tooth from the outstretched hand. His fingers brushed against Wesley's hand, and he felt something uncurl in his stomach. Wesley was alive, truly alive, and to see it, feel it, even after being told, was enough to give Giles hope that they could do this. That it would work.

"We're ready, Giles," Willow announced, drawing Giles back to his senses. "Where do you need us?"

"Carly will need to sit at the tip of the triangle," he said. The girl nodded, holding herself up on the wall to stand on one foot. Giles had no idea if her ankle or leg was sprained, broken or else, but he was glad that she wasn't injured in any worse way. "Wesley and Connor, I'll need you to stand guard. Once we've started the ritual, it might take us a while, and I'd rather we were not interrupted."

"No problem," Connor said quickly, tugging a sword out of its sheath on his back.

Wesley only nodded.

Giles turned to Xander and pulled him apart from the others. "This is where you become incredibly important."

"How?"

"You're the last ingredient that the spell needs to work; well, your blood is." Giles took Xander's hand in his, barely resisting the urge to kiss it. He wouldn't slash the wrist this time; he hoped a simple cut across the palm would yield enough blood for this to work. There was no way he was risking Xander's life again.

"So--how's it going to work?" Xander asked.

Giles let out a short, quiet breath, thankful that Xander hadn't thought to ask "why" but only "how." "I'll cut into your palm at the very end of the ritual. You'll have to kneel in the middle circle with me until then."

"Do I have to say anything?"

"No. You'll have to spread some of the contaminated soil into the circle with me before we kneel, but afterwards, I'll only need you to hand me your palm when I ask for it." Xander's expression turned into a frown, and Giles reached out, stopping himself moments before he cupped Xander's cheek and putting his hand on his shoulder instead. "I won't lie to you. When I did this before, I had to take a lot of your blood--"

"Did I die?"

Giles couldn't bring himself to say it, and he shook his head. "It doesn't matter; you are alive here and now, and there's only one portal to close instead of more than a dozen."

"Okay, I trust you." It was said with such conviction that Giles looked up, and their eyes locked. He couldn't bring himself to look away.

He could read the question burning in Xander's eye, "Why me?" but Xander never voiced it; Giles wasn't even sure he could explain it all now, not without privacy and the possibility of a strong drink.

Xander finally looked away, and they made their way into the circle. Giles gave Xander the soil, and with a nod to Willow, they started.

It seemed to go much faster this time around. The sun was still high up in the sky when Willow threw the last of the eye of newt into the fire, and Giles reached for Xander's hand. He had no idea if any demon had noticed their presence, if the power they were invoking was so strong that some found themselves attracted by it, and Giles didn't dare looking up and away from what he was doing. He grabbed his knife and looked into Xander's eye.

There was no cry of pain when the knife cut through the skin this time. Xander held his gaze and the first drop of blood felt onto the ground. The rumbling was barely an echo of what Giles had heard the first time, but he could feel and hear the demons being sucked back into the portal, to where they belonged. Another trickle of blood fell down; one minute, two minutes passed, and the rumbling ended abruptly to a sound not unlike that of a door slamming shut. Time stopped again.

"Watcher. Rupert. Giles." The same disembodied voice.

"Yes."

"Stand."

This time, Giles didn't argue. He stood, waiting for the figure to appear, though he never let go of Xander's hand.

"You have restored balance once more. Your wish will be granted."

The creature hadn't appeared, and Giles tried to argue, opening his mouth just as time resumed its course. When he heard Carly yelled "We did it!" Giles dropped to his knees and reached for his handkerchief to wrap Xander's hand.

"Hey," Xander said, putting his uninjured hand on Giles' knee, then taking it away with a blush a second later. "The world's still standing, huh?"

"Apparently, it is," Giles replied. He hoped his voice wasn't as hoarse as it sounded to his ears; he could still feel Xander's hand on him. "Can you stand?"

The roll of Xander's eye was a welcome sight, so very much the opposite of how it had ended the last time that Giles found himself smiling. "Yeah, I barely bled at all; didn't even hurt."

"That's good to hear."

Giles helped Xander up, looking around to see Willow and Connor looking down into the street, while Wesley held up his hand for Carly. Giles made his way to the edge and looked where the others' eyes were turned. A deep, open crater stood where the Wolfram & Hart building had been. He could already see the headlines; yet another earthquake in California, not much news at all.

"I've seen it happen," Wesley said behind him, and Giles turned. "I've seen the portal close. It was quite a sight."

Giles nodded thoughtfully. "How long did it take?"

"Just about two hours. Demons were swallowed into the doorway along with some of the debris. I'm actually very surprised this building is still standing."

Giles was too, but he didn't say so. He put a hand to the small of Xander's back, and pondered what else they had to do before they could all sleep.

He didn't react or even notice the look Xander gave him, just felt him leaning into the touch.

* * *

They found everyone else on the Hyperion lot. No one was inside, except perhaps Angel, and they all stood or sat or lay on the grass, bags of fast food littered around them as they ate. Xander, Carly, Willow and Connor took off to where there seemed to be some food not yet consumed, and Giles smiled with a shake of his head. "Giles, over here!" Buffy called.

Giles followed her voice, and found her sitting next to Andrew. "How did it go?"

Buffy's face fell, and she looked up to where Brian was sitting. "We lost three girls. Leila, and two from Brian's group."

Leila. She'd survived the first time. Giles took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Every action has a price," he whispered to himself, looking at the dirt under his fingernails. "I'll take care of calling her family."

"I've got us the top floor at the Hilton, boss," Andrew intervened around a mouthful. He swallowed, and went on, "I figured you wouldn't mind; cheaper than getting a room for everyone anyway. I'll get you Leila's contact info soon as we're settled."

"Thank you, Andrew." Giles spotted Wesley in the doorway, looking at him, and he excused himself. "What is it?"

Wesley led him inside and they sat in the empty lobby. "I suppose I deserve an explanation now; or perhaps not, considering I'm part of the team who brought about the end of the world, but I'd still really like to know how you knew."

Giles gave him a smile and told him his tale. The smile made his scar hurt, and he found himself touching it gingerly. It would need to be cleaned again. The last time it had been done, well, it hadn't been done in _this_ timeline at all, now, had it?

Angel was hiding up in his room; Spike hadn't come back from the alley; and when Wesley added a report of his own, Giles found out that Illyria had been sucked back into the portal with the rest of the demons, though she hadn't come from it. "I'll have to research what happened," Wesley added, "but perhaps it was a demon's essence or some such; I wouldn't be surprise if every demon but vampires and half breeds and the few peaceful ones had been sucked in."

"From the area, at the least," Giles added. It made sense, though Wesley was right that research would be needed to understand the phenomenon. "I should probably find something to eat," he said, feeling himself dizzy when he stood.

"There should be some left outside, I believe Curtis ordered enough for an army of a hundred."

Giles gave Wesley a tired smile. "He's very effective in that way."

"Yes, he always were if I remember correctly." Wesley looked away at the door, and sighed, but didn't speak.

"Is there anything you wish to ask?"

Wesley's eyes drifted to him, and he pursed his lips. "I've heard not one good thing from my father about what you're doing with the Council. He thinks what you're doing is ridiculously wrong and flies in the face of everything he believes in."

Giles snorted. "Yes, I've had the pleasure to argue with him more than once already. For everything from the Council's new location to the brand of toilet paper we order."

Wesley laughed. "That doesn't surprise me at all."

"He's very set in his ways, isn't he?"

"You could say that." Wesley's expression turned troubled.

"Is there anything else?" Giles prodded gently. He had a feeling he knew what Wesley wanted to ask.

"I'm not sure that there's anything left for me to do here." Wesley sighed. "The city's already talking about earthquakes, and we're not needed to clean up, as it's been done for us when the portal shut down. Even before all this, I--" He stopped and looked around at the hotel lobby, wistful.

"Well," Giles said when Wesley didn't continue after a moment. "We need more Watchers than we have, so I'll just say that anyone with training is welcome to contact me at any time, if they want to come back to work."

With that, he gave Wesley a smile and went outside again. There, he was handed a bag full of food he hated, but craved, and he found Xander, Connor and most of the others deep in conversation. He sat next to Xander and ate. They'd have work to do later, but for now, it seemed there was a celebration to attend to.

* * *

  
Giles heard the door leading into the hall open behind him, but didn't look away from the window. The common room of the suite was vast and the whole south wall was made of glass, giving quite a spectacular view into the city.

Los Angeles was waking as if nothing had happened.

Wesley had wondered why they weren't staying at the Hyperion, but the thought of stale sheets and dusty rooms hadn't appealed to anyone. The girls had preferred stacking up three to four a room in the penthouse of the Hilton, and they deserved the expense. Besides, the Council's accounts were not exactly close to being empty. Not for a very long time.

"Willow said I'd find you here." Xander walked in and let the door shut itself behind him, but Giles didn't look away. "I've been wondering, you know, about the spell."

Giles slowly turned to him and saw him waving his bandaged hand in front of his face. "Yes?"

"Willow won't tell me why it had to be me, and I'm not that close to Carly, so..." He shrugged.

"You thought I would give you the answer," Giles finished for him. He watched Xander steadily, and nodded for him to come stand next to the window. "I saw this world gone to hell," he whispered when Xander was just a feet away. "And now--to hell and back again."

"Must be hard; knowing how it ends," Xander said. He reached out and touched Giles' hand tentatively. Giles looked at him and Xander's hand stayed where it was. "Do you _like_ like me?"

Giles had to bite his lip not to laugh. "Pardon?"

"You know," Xander replied, shrugging again and his cheeks flushing slightly. "Are you--are you in love with me?"

"Xander--" he started, not quite sure how to answer that.

"I have a second set of memories, like Connor said he did; well, apart from the part about being raised in hell and stuff. It didn't just appear, but it's been, you know, superimposing itself for the past few hours. I think I figured it out." Xander looked down at the street, and Giles did the same; two early risers passed by, hurrying to wherever it was they were going. Life followed its course.

This took Giles by surprise and he struggled to say, "They said they couldn't--"

"You promised," Xander interrupted him. "You promised I'd get my memories back--"

"--if I could." Perhaps that's what the Powers had meant when they said his wish had been granted. He hadn't had time to make one now, but they'd fulfilled the one he'd wanted before...

"It's working. It's slow, and at first I had no freaking clue what was going on, but it's pretty clear now. I saw the world end too, and now you won't be alone remembering it." Xander's fingers tightened on Giles' hand, and he leaned closer, almost close enough to lay his head on Giles' shoulder.

Giles wished he would. The touch of his hand was enough to make Giles yearn for the comfortable closeness they'd had on that very last day. "I considered going back on that promise; you wouldn't have remembered me making it, after all."

"But you would."

"Yes, I would." Whether or not he'd have been able to live with himself if he'd decided not to ask was irrelevant now. Giles only hoped Xander wouldn't regret his decision. What they'd seen, the memories they had, they weren't anything Giles would have wanted to share in any other circumstances.

"We had sex."

It was said with such "aplomb" that Giles was unable to resist laughing. "Yes," he replied, even it hadn't been a question. "Yes, we did."

"Was I any good?"

Another burst of laughter escaped him, and Xander slapped his arm, saying with a mock-insulted look, "Hey, you seemed to like it at the time."

"I'm sorry." Giles stifled his laugh with his hand, and turned around, cupping Xander's cheek. "Don't you remember it?"

"I'm a little fuzzy on the details."

"You were adequate," Giles answered, grinning.

"Adequate? That's all you have to say?"

"Well, I suppose I might need to experience it again, just to be certain." Giles attempted the tease with uncertainty, but Xander laughed, and something uncurled in Giles' stomach. He could breathe; he hadn't even noticed he'd been holding his breath.

"Yeah, okay," he said. "Come on, your room's closer." Xander grabbed Giles and pulled him away from the bay window.

The end.


End file.
